The Bird of Hermes and The Heretic
by Yuke
Summary: [Chapter 7 Uploaded] After their latest mission, Alucard and company return with an extra person. But also, with a solution to their puzzle.
1. The Heretic

A/N: I don't own Hellsing; all characters, (I.E. Alucard, Integral, Seras, Walter, etc.) with the exception of ones I created, are copyright of Kohta Hirano. (Although I wouldn't mind owning Alucard. ) If you have any questions pertaining to this story or anything else, feel free to email me.  
  
The Bird of Hermes and the Heretic  
  
Isabella sat in a pool of blood, a crazed smile playing upon her ruby lips as she watched the crimson liquid stain her stark white dress. She licked her lips and reached over to the body of the priest whom she had slain moments before. She pulled off the silver cross which still hung around his neck and threw it into the ever-growing pool of blood.  
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned!" She cackled, her voice high and mocking.  
But the vampire's smile faded as she heard the sound of many footsteps on the floor below. Isabella gave a low, guttural chuckle and rose to her feet. She strode calmly over to the heavy mahogany door that was the entrance to the bellfry.  
"Well, well, Father Reston," Isabella said thoughtfully to the mangled corpse. "Your cries have alerted the rest of the church. But don't worry, I'll have some of them join you soon."  
  
William was the first to hear Father Reston's screams of terror. He leapt up from his chair at once and hurried through the halls of the church. The screams continued and increased in volume for about a minute, then they abruptly stopped. William and a handful of the other priests dashed through the silent halls towards the church's belltower, where the screams had originated from.  
"Father Reston?" William threw open the heavy door of the bellfry.  
Although he had been running, William skidded to a halt as a eerie sight met his eyes. The room was dimly lit, and what little moonlight there was glinted brightly off the large bell which hung suspended in the air. A young woman clothed in a long white gown knelt by the still figure of Father Reston. And although her face was obscured by her long, sable hair, William could see that she was crying.  
"M-Madam...what happened here?" William took a timid step towards the woman, his companions remaining rivetted by the door. "Is he..."  
Her features still hidden beneath waves of ebony locks, she reached out slowly and took William's tan right hand into her startlingly pale white ones. Her voice was choked with tears.  
"H-He....he..."  
"What is it?" William inquired as he leaned closer.  
Suddenly, her grip became powerful and vice-like, William found that he couldn't extract himself from her hold. The woman threw back her head, revealing a pair of crazed emerald eyes, sneering crimson lips, and twin milk-white fangs dripping blood. Isabella's lips pulled up into a chilling smile as she spoke:  
"He's in Hell now."  
"M-Monster!" William turned frantic as he fought to escape from her. But his futile attempts were halted forever as Isabella sunk her fangs into the tender flesh of his neck. Terrible cries tore their way out of William's mouth as Isabella leapt upon him with inhuman speed and strength. The vampiress laughed raucously as she felt her victim squirm helplessly. The men at the door watched on in disbelief. With an almightly roar, Isabella ripped out a large portion of William's flesh, held it in her mouth for a moment, and cast it towards the remaining priests. The fivesome recoiled as the grisly object landed barely a yard away from them. They were all praying earnestly now, a few even clutching pathetically at their cassocks and crossing themselves. But the bravest of the five, Father Roland, stepped forward resolutely, brandishing a copy of the Bible and his crucifix. His voice was small at first, but grew in volume as he continued.  
"B-Begone from here, evil one!" He thundered, his watery blue eyes betraying the slightest of fear. "Or we...shall banish thee to Hell!"  
In one swift movement, Isabella discarded William's body, snatched up the cross that Father Roland held, snapped the object in half, and struck Roland dead at her feet.  
"Human, I banish thee to death!" She declared laconically.  
By now, the remaining men had seen more than enough. Eyes wide with terror, they fled from the place. Isabella yawned as she watched them depart. She didn't feel like pursuing them. Ah well, they'll carry the gruesome tale of what I've done to the Vatican. Just like I want them to.  
  
Two years later, Isabella looked back upon the memory of those killings and smiled to herself. What good times. She was bleeding from countless places, and couldn't even muster enough energy to lift up her head, let alone stand. Her green eyes turned to gaze up at the tall figure which towered over her.  
"If I knew Iscariot had pissants like you in their inventory, I would have challenged you blokes sooner." she said weakly. "And what say ye now, Father Wrexmar?"  
Father Wrexmar was a giant of a man. He sheathed his broadswords and scowled down at the wounded vampire. His breaths came in short gasps. His long battle with Isabella had drained his strength considerably.  
"Isabella d'Anjou the Heretic." He spoke the words with much disgust. "Scum like you should be slain at once."  
Isabella groaned lightly as she fought to stand up. "You know," she said. "They call me 'Bella the Bloody' in jolly ol' France. Slay me then, human, and get it over with."  
Wrexmar frowned as he reached into his robes and withdrew a length of heavy rope. "Were it my choice, vampire, you'd be nothing more than scattered ash on a crossroad now. However, my orders from Iscariot are quite clear. I'm to bring ye in alive."  
Isabella hissed lowly and licked up the blood that trickled down her face as Wrexmar proceded to bind her. "Lovely."  
To her surprise, a small smile arose on Wrexmar's features. "Oh," he said as he borne her up high. "You'll be wishing I killed ye when Iscariot's done with ye."  
For the first time since she'd become a vampire, Isabella felt fear. Fear for her future, and uncertainty on whether she would survive the coming days. 


	2. Rings and Seals

Hellsing director Integtral Fairbrooks Wingates Hellsing picked up a cigar from her desk as the doors to her office swung open slowly. After a moment, a tall, raven-haired male entered the room, followed closely by a young woman and the Hellsing family butler, Walter Dornez.  
"The vampire in Exeter has been taken care of, correct?" Integra lit the cigar as she spoke.  
The young woman, Seras Victoria, nodded. "The vampire had occupied a small abandoned church on the outskirts of the city. He also had about a score of ghouls with him. Master Alucard took out the vampire, but..."  
Integra looked up, a frown beginning to settle on her lips. "But what?"  
Alucard, whom had been silent all this time, cleared his throat. "Those ghouls, they'd all been branded, Integra. On the forehead, to be exact, with black rings. And on top of that, many of the church's walls had things etched upon them with blood. Mostly bloody rings and such, and some runes of the kind I've never seen before."  
Integra took this calmly, but chewed irritably on her cigar. She then looked to Walter. "What in God's name were they doing? Have you been able to find out anything about this?"  
The ever-faithful butler shrugged. "So far, we've only found obscure references to archaic runes, Norse mythology, ancient artifacts of Pagan worship. Nothing of real value to us at the moment. What we need is something, some key to narrow our search, something to throw light upon just what we're really dealing with. And I have a feeling that this isn't the last we'll see of such occurrences."  
  
And with that, the three took their leave, leaving Integra to her office.  
At once, Seras left to make her way to the shooting range for practice,  
while Alucard and Walter conversed as they strode through the corridors.  
  
"And what do you make of this, Alucard?"  
  
"Rings, blood...makes no real difference to me."  
  
"Well, it seems to me that we might be missing something here. Think,  
Alucard, did the vampire say anything to you? Anything of note?"  
  
Alucard pulled absently at the brim of his hat. "Aside from a myriad  
of useless prattle, he kept shouting 'Reveal the ring and glory of the  
King.' Made no sense."  
  
"A King?" Walter echoed. "I guess I shall search for any 'Kings' in  
the data we've already collected."  
  
. . .  
  
Father Enrico Maxwell of Vatican Section XIII sat in silence as he read a transcript of a report from Heinkel Wulf and Yumiko Tagaki. He shook his head and frowned. The report itself was eclectic. It merely gave a disorganized account of an anti-Vatican cult the duo had dealt with. Aside from the usual resistance Vatican agents met with when dealing with followers of other religions, they had found grisly artifacts of ritual sacrifice and self-mortification, statements written upon the walls proclaiming the Vatican and it's people to be 'shepherds of lies.'  
Father Maxwell scowled. Heretics were heretics. But it seemed a new cult of some kind was on the rise. A currently unnamed one, that is.  
But Maxwell's thoughts were broken as the sound of heavy footsteps sounded in the halls. A young priest and Father Anderson entered the room.  
"F-Father Maxwell!" the youngest of the pair cried. "You must see this! It's unbelievable – I never-"  
Maxwell disregard young Roderick's unclear outburst and nodded at Father Anderson. "Explain the situation, Anderson."  
"Ae strange tale it be, Maxwell. Sae this lad here was going about his rounds, the usual cleaning an' sanitation. But he found something. In the nether floors."  
Now Maxwell's attention was piqued and captured. He leaned forward in his desk. "Go on."  
Now young Roderick took up the tale again. "I was in the substratum, Father. I usually don't go down there, but decided to clean it at least once this year. The bloody place was dusty and dimly lit, cavernous too. I was working hurriedly, for I wanted to depart from there as soon as possible. But then, I don't know, I must have hit some sort of switch or hidden device, Father, for a section of the walls gave way and fell back."  
"And what did you find?"  
Roderick now shivered slightly, as though the memory of his experiences frightened him deeply. "Behind it was a deep set of stairs, Father. It looked as though no one had touched it in many years. I even dare to day decades, so thick was the dust and grime upon them. But the stairwell had many small silver crosses scattered upon the steps. And written upon the walls, Latin phrases and quotes from the Bible."  
Maxwell pondered this information for a full five minutes. What could be down there? He'd never seen any records of something down in the underpinning of the Vatican. "Then let us investigate this stairwell."  
Here Roderick's eyes went wide and his shivering increased. "Father Maxwell, if I may say, it looked as though something had been sealed down there. Something that shouldn't be disturbed. Couldn't we just seal up the walls again?"  
Maxwell snorted. "Coward. Whatever be down there, beast or relic, or monster, we can handle it. Father Anderson and I shall go then. Return to your duties. But, tell no one of this yet."  
As Roderick scurried from the room, Anderson shut the doors behind him. "Sae, Maxwell." he said with his heavy accent. "When?"  
A wicked smile arose on Maxwell's face. "Bring your weapons, Anderson. I have a feeling that Roderick may be right about not disturbing whatever's down there. But, whatever it is, we'll take it out."  
  
. . .  
  
The staircase was just as Roderick described it. It's dark stone steps were caked with signs of age. But the hundreds of silver crucifixes dropped upon it glinted brightly under the dust and cobwebs. Anderson, swords ready, went first, brushing cobwebs aside as he stepped down. But he was careful not to tread upon any of the crosses. Father Maxwell, armed with gun and lit torch, followed closely after him. He examined the walls as they descended in the darkness.  
"The Latin phrases speak of some 'demon bound beneath six seals.' But the rest is too worn to read."  
"Ae demon, eh?" Anderson chuckled. "We'll see."  
The stairwell led them deep under the infrastructure of the Vatican. Maxwell marveled at how far down they were traveling. At one point, a section of the stairs had leveled to a flat surface. And upon the surface, an ornate circle was etched upon the ground, adorned with more Latin and phrases from the Bible. Such a thing occurred five more times, only with different symbols; the infinity emblem, the Celtic rune for eternity, a crucifix, a pentacle, and finally, a hexagram, or a Star of David.  
After what seemed to be hours, the pair at last came upon a heavy pair of doors. They had been bolted shut and sealed. But a few shots from Maxwell's gun took care of that. Anderson reached forth and pulled open the gates.  
A wave of stale air hit them as the doors swung away. And a pitch- black chamber stared at them. Anderson now held a sword in both hands. Maxwell held high his torch.  
"Well then, may God protect us both from what be in here." Maxwell murmured.  
"Aye." 


	3. Bowels of the Vatican

The temperature in the room was near chilling. Father Maxwell raised his torch high, his eyes fighting to adjust to the dim light. As the gloom finally gave way to shadowy images, Maxwell found that he could just make out nine torch brackets upon the wall. Anderson's footsteps sounded unusually loud as he took the torch from Maxwell and strode to all nine and lit them. After a moment, the underground chamber was flooded with pale orange light. Maxwell and Anderson gasped as they took in their surroundings.  
Here, the walls had also been written upon, this time, with a thick, tarry black ink of some sort. Words that begged the Lord for protection, for salvation, and many other similar things of the sort. Maxwell shuddered the slightest of shivers. Whatever was in this room wasn't meant to leave. But it wasn't the walls that were the most startling feature. A wizened form lay kneeled on the ground in the chamber's center. Lanky, coarse black hair obscured most of the long-since decayed face. The wasted arms of the corpse had been bounds with heavy chains, which fed into the rock walls at nine different locations. But surrounding the cadaver, were six large objects wrought of what seemed to be pure silver; a circle, infinity emblem, eternity rune, crucifix, pentacle, and Star of David. The same symbols that had been etched upon the stairs. All of the metal articles were standing upright upon marble bases. Except for three. The circle, infinity emblem, and the Celtic rune had been knocked over. Maxwell drew back as he looked at the ground. The dark stone floor had been stained with blood. And even though the stains had been dreadfully faded by the ages, they still frightened and fascinated him. But he cast his gaze back at the body. It knelt there, clothed in a long, tattered white dress, a chilling sneer fixed upon its rancid features.

"Maxwell, I think it's ae vampire." Anderson said, his grip tightening upon his swords.

"Perhaps. What if it's something else? Why would anyone lock a vampire down here?"

"There have been many ae vampire to terrorize Europe over the centuries." Anderson said thoughtfully. "Perhaps, this one did something terrible."

"True, but why not slay it?"

"Maybe...they couldn't?" But as Maxwell was about to answer, something caught his eye. He leaned in closer to examine the remains. Surprisingly enough, a patch of skin had not yet rotted away. But it was close to that point. It was the upper chest area, and was barely visible under frayed cloth and dried hair. Ever so carefully, Maxwell brushed aside the hair, which felt like cobwebs to the touch. His eyes went wide as he found that there was something branded upon the skin.

A sigil.

"Anderson." Maxwell said over his shoulder. "Come look at this."

The priest hurried over and followed Maxwell's gaze. He too, was shocked. "Laird above..." he murmured.

"Yes..."

The sigil sported a decagram surmounted by lines of runes and words. Aside from some Latin, there was a word at a focal point of the mark, which surprised both present to see it.

**Hellsing.**  
  
. . .  
  
Alucard was sitting upon his sable coffin as Walter rapped lightly on the door and entered. Alucard looked up absently, waiting for the old butler to speak.  
"Integra wishes to speak with you." Walter said.  
With his usual wicked sneer, Alucard pocketed his twin combat pistols and strode out of the room. He thought back a moment as he made his way towards the office. He hadn't done anything to offend Integra. Well, not recently, that is.  
Integra had her back to the door when Alucard entered.  
"What is it, Master?" Alucard asked.  
Integra turned and pointed at a cream-colored paper with lay on her desk. "I just received a letter from Vatican Section XIII. Iscariot."  
Alucard's features pulled up into a devious grin. "Oh? And what did they want?"  
"Read it." Integra ordered. "It would certainly amuse you."  
Alucard took the paper into his pale white hands. "Sir Hellsing, "he read. "The weather is lovely in Vatican City. A meeting would be in order."  
Alucard snorted as he tossed the article back upon the desk. "Are they serious? They want us to meet them? At the Vatican? The pivot of the Catholic Church?"  
"Aye."  
Alucard's grin grew wider. "When do we leave, my Master?"  
  
. . .  
  
Integral, Alucard, and Seras arrived in Rome shortly after eleven-o- clock at night the next day. Their rendezvous with Father Maxwell was a rather tense one; given that the priest was late. However, without any further ado, the trio from Hellsing allowed themselves to be led into the Vatican.  
Alucard sneered as he followed Integra and Maxwell through the darkened halls of the Vatican.  
"These walls would look quite in blood." he remarked absently.  
But his speech received no answer, and the group journeyed down into the nether regions of the building. As they neared the recently uncovered stairwell, Alucard paused. His eyes narrowed beneath thick-rimmed glasses. There was something amiss here. He sniffed at the air.  
"M-master?"  
Alucard started at the sound of Seras' voice. "What?"  
"Is something wrong?"  
Alucard straightened and quickened his pace. He shook his head. "Not yet." he answered.  
Integra was hesitant as they came upon the stairs. "You expect us to go down there?" she demanded. "How do we know this isn't a trap?"  
Maxwell sighed. "Sir Hellsing," he said calmly. "Would it ease your mind if I went first?"  
Alucard drew out one of his pistols, the Casull. "If you wouldn't mind," he said.  
Maxwell cast a disdainful glance at the large weapon pointed at him. "All right, all right...no need to start pointing weapons."  
Seras squirmed uncomfortably as Alucard held his gun out high. Her usual weapon, Harkonnen, was too ungainly to bring along on this mission, so she, like Integra, had come armed with two Beretta handguns and a dagger apiece. She hoped she wouldn't have to use them. But the tense moment passed when Maxwell went first down into the stairwell. After a moment, Integra followed after him, Alucard and Seras behind her. Integra shivered slightly as the temperature dropped during their descent. Alucard's voice sounded close to her ear.  
"Cold, Sir Hellsing?"  
Integra's deep blue eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare. "No."  
The party continued on down deeper and deeper into the bowels of the Vatican. Seras groaned quietly as they passed the fifth mark. How much further? It seemed as though they had been walking for hours! She also was unsettled by the looks of this passage they were in. It had the looks of a place that one wasn't supposed to disturb. Nevertheless, she followed.  
At long last, the gates to the 'tomb,' as Maxwell and Anderson had referred to it as, appeared. Maxwell pulled open the slightly ajar doors and turned to face Integra.  
"This," he said. "Is what we called you here for, Sir Hellsing."  
Pushing Maxwell aside, Integra entered the chamber. She fought to hide her surprise as she took in her surroundings. Her gaze took in the walls, the chains, the bloodstained floors, and last but now least, the body. Alucard came in next. His face was a mask of mixed emotions as he glanced around. But it was Seras who voiced their opinion.  
"What the bloody hell?!"  
Wordless, Alucard and Integra approached the bound corpse. For Integra, it reminded her of a scene years ago, when she had first found Alucard deep in the labs of Hellsing. Alucard leaned in close to the cadaver.  
"It's a vampire all right." he said, his gaze a calculating one.  
"Yes, but look at that." Integra shoved aside the hair and pointed at the sigil branded upon the ancient flesh.  
"Servate nos a periculum." Alucard read aloud the Latin from the sigil. Servate nos a maleficulm. Hellsing."  
"What does it mean?" Seras asked.  
"It's Latin." Integral replied. "It basically means. 'Save us from peril, save us from evil.' Strange, why the bloody hell is 'Hellsing' written on there?"  
A low laugh escaped from Alucard's lips. "Only one way to find out, Master."  
Integra caught on to what the vampire was implying with the tone of his voice. With a slight frown, she reached into her coat and withdrew the slim dagger she had brought along. Quickly, she made a small slit on the palm of her hand. Through the cut, a small puddle of blood began to pool on her hand. Alucard's nose flared as he saw the blood, but he remained motionless. Integra now turned over her hand deftly, allowing some of her blood to drip down onto the corpse's head, and some onto the ground. The deed done, she recoiled to a point a few feet away, bandaging her wound with a gray handkerchief in the same minute. Alucard also retreated, but his eyes remained riveted on the sight in front of him, not wanting to miss a thing.  
The withered pile didn't move for a long three minutes. Then, a deep shudder ran through the dried limbs and bones. Shriveled matter now slowly melted into smooth white skin. All at once, the figure lurched forward, and a long scarlet tongue darted out. It lapped up the blood hungrily. That done, the newly revived vampire threw back its head, revealing that it was in actuality a female. Her deep green eyes, though slightly clouded, blazed with deep-rooted fury.  
"Release me, Catholic scum!" She said in a low voice, her eyes focused on Maxwell. "I'll have yer damned head."  
"Oho!" Alucard grinned. "She seems peeved."  
The woman turned to face , chains rattling violently as she did so. Her gaze changed as she looked at him. "Well, well," she said, a brooding smile upon her chapped lips. "Another vampire. Release me, lord, so that I may return the injustice these blasted Catholic bastards have done to me."  
Integra now took a step towards the chained one. "Who are you? And why are you branded with a sigil like that?"  
The vampiress hissed at Integra, but stopped as she caught sight of her wounded hand. "Ah," she licked her lips. "I thank ye, milady, for the blood. I recognized it right away. You're a Hellsing, aren't you? Then I am Isabella d'Anjou to you, Lady Hellsing."  
"Yes, but-"  
Isabella's attention now returned to Maxwell. "Tell me," she spat. "How many years? How long have I been down in this damned pit?"  
Maxwell shook his head. "There are no records of you. We were quite surprised to find this place. But tell me, who imprisoned you here? And why?"  
"Father Wrexmar!" Isabella cried. "I'll have that bitch's head..."  
Surprise registered on Maxwell's face. "Wrexmar? Wrexmar...he was a priest here...But he served the Vatican over ninety years ago!"  
A look of disbelief knocked aside the anger on Isabella. "Oh, piss. Bloody, damned hells." she said lowly.


	4. Seven Pouches Later

A/N: Yea, thank you to all those who took the time to review. I guess it's safe to say that I'm a better artist than I am a writer. I do not own Hellsing and all that jazz.

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Isabella ceased pulling at her bonds. Her volatile demeanor mellowed dramatically as she struggled to comprehend just how long her incarceration had been. Jumbled memories swam in her mind. She dimly remembered being brought to this place by Father Wrexmar, but aside from a few blurred images, she recalled little else. Her brows knitted together as she struggled to sort through her disheveled recollections. Enrico Maxwell took advantage of the silence to speak.  
"I've already spoken with a few other members of Iscariot on this situation. We can't afford to keep such a creature within our walls. Or the Vatican City for that matter. Such a thing could only bring trouble. What do you propose, Sir Hellsing?"  
Integra turned away from Isabella's still form. She looked thoughtful, as though unsure. Finally, she nodded resolutely.  
"We shall take her."  
Father Maxwell seemed to have hoped for such an answer. He offered no resistance to the proposal, instead shrugging.  
"But how will you release her from these pits? And transport her to the surface? Not to mention get her back to England."  
Here Alucard snorted. "These seals...I doubt they could even keep a lowly ghoul out. They may have been potent when created, but time has stolen any power they might have once held. However," He motioned around the chamber and at the silver objects surrounding Isabella. "These chains still possess a bit of bite. And as for those talismans..."  
"Forged from blessed silver," Isabella said, her voice eerily calm. "Melded with holy water and the leaves of a plant called Rue. Not to mention a few other ingredients I don't care to recall. All this to keep me within this ring." Here she gave a dry chuckle. "I managed to knock three of those damn things over. Took me a while. But the others...I couldn't reach...I cannot move so long as they stand."  
As if in response to this statement, Alucard raised a booted foot and kicked over the remaining talismans in one swift, fluid movement. Maxwell winced as the crucifix crashed onto the cold stone ground. Integra nodded with satisfaction.  
"Now, as for those chains..."  
Here Seras drew her gun. Raising it, she let loose a shot at the chain closest to her. A sharp, piercing ring sounded as bullet met silver. The entire length shook, but the bullet had only managed to chip the loop slightly.  
Seras lowered the Beretta. "Well..."  
Isabella looked up and nodded at one of the walls. "It 'taint that easy. If it were, I would have broken them long since. But these damned things feed into braces set into the masonry. I do believe they're only made of iron."  
At this, Seras shot at said braces. The ancient stone gave under the force and crumbled; releasing the chains it had held for so many years. There came a thunderous rattling and crashes as the chains fell to the ground, kicking up a thick cloud of dust. More or less freed, Isabella slowly rose to her feet. But her legs trembled beneath her as she stood, threatening to buckle if she even dared to take a step. She shifted her weight slightly – and ended up on the ground.  
"Oh hells." she seethed.  
Integra sighed. Perhaps this would be more difficult than they originally thought. And the prospect of having to move a paralyzed vampire back to England didn't appeal to her. The director of Hellsing gazed at the vampire as she fought to stand. Just exactly who was she? And why was the Hellsing name branded upon her?  
As Isabella failed yet again, Alucard spoke:  
"I guess third time's not the charm. Perhaps we should leave you behind?"  
With a defiant snarl, Isabella leapt to her feet, and this time, managed to stay upright. She wobbled unsteadily; the heavy chains, which were encircled all about her form, were quite the burden.  
"Right then," Integra turned to leave. "I suppose if you can stand, then walking should follow that."  
And with that, Integra left the cold chamber, along with Alucard, and Seras. Isabella hung back for a moment. She threw a venomous glare over at Maxwell, but said nothing. She then trudged painfully after Integra and the others, heavy chains clattering loudly in her wake.  
Now alone, Maxwell sighed and offered a short prayer to the Lord.  
"...Amen. I only hope that we did the right thing."  
  
. . .  
  
Back at Hellsing Headquarters, Integra brooded as Walter gave her an account of what had occurred since they had brought Isabella back with them.  
"...And here, to our surprise, here she fainted. We attributed this to perhaps she'd been deprived of blood for too long. But we took advantage of that to perform a medical examination."  
Integra's brow furrowed. "And what did you find?"  
"Her body sported many scars, as though she'd been through many operations. Her healing abilities seem to have been accelerated somehow, but from our examination, it seems this skill is not consistent.  
"What do you mean?"  
"We also took time to remove those chains. But since some were half melded with her flesh, we had to cut into her to remove them. Some of the wounds healed within seconds. But others didn't close up, and they were mainly the more shallow and some of the deeper cuts. We had to bandage those."  
Integra frowned. "How peculiar. What is her state now, Walter?"  
"Awoke just about ten minutes ago. A good time to speak with her would be after she's eaten. Seras is bringing her several pouches of medical blood and some clothing. But tell me," Walter said. "What do you plan to do with her?"  
Integra smiled thinly. "I'm not sure yet. But she might have quite a tale to tell."  
  
**...**  
  
Seras found Isabella sitting in the corner of the basement. She approached her slowly, holding out the clothes and blood.  
"Um, Isabella? Here's some blood and..."  
Isabella looked up. Her pale hand reached out and snatched one of the pouches of blood Seras held. She held the thing up, turning it quizzically.  
"Oh, it's a plastic bag." Seras said. "You have to..."  
Isabella tore open the top of the container. She tossed back its contents in a single quaff. This she repeated on the remaining six pouches. Once done, she took the clothes from Seras and proceeded to undress. Seras turned away as Isabella tore the tattered white dress off herself.  
"Umm...can I ask you a question, Isabella?"  
Isabella tossed her torn white frock into a corner. She didn't say anything, acting as though she hadn't heard Seras. The two stood amidst an awkward silence for a while, until Isabella broke it with her queer chuckle.  
"You wish to know why I was imprisoned, don't ye?"  
"Y-yes..."  
More silence arose from this exchange and Seras, back still turned, waited patiently. Perhaps Isabella was preparing to tell her tale. She gazed absently at the far wall. The sudden sound of a door slamming brought Seras out of her reverie. She whirled around, only to find that Isabella was gone. Somehow she had slipped away without her noticing. Seras blinked in amazement. So much for a story.  
Isabella strode through the halls, a displeased look upon her face. The blood that Seras had brought was far from enough to sate her thirst. She scowled. _A mere child._ More innocence and naiveté than experience or malice. That was what Seras was to her. _How could a child understand? _She continued walking through the empty hallway, half-consciously wondering where she was going. A tug of guilt pulled lightly at her. Then again, she too once had been a child. Here her scowl deepened.  
A child raped of all innocence by life. 


	5. Assertion of Power

**I do not own Hellsing and all that.**

(But if you're interested in seeing artwork of Isabella, email me.)

* * *

Isabella swore violently under her breath as she ambled down the hall. She felt horribly disoriented, and very angry. An awakening in a dank pit was bad enough, but her unsettling trip from the Vatican to England, followed by another revival down in some unknown basement (Covered with injuries and bandages no less.), and some child asking for her tale was more than enough to overwhelm her. At the moment, however, she didn't care about the present. She knew her mind was a mess; that was obvious. And the reason why was just as elusive as clarity. But that was why she would need to sort them out. She started off from a point she could recall, and urged her memories onward, like someone pressing the fast-forward button while watching a movie.

_A vampire sitting between two mangled bodies, crimson liquid dripping off her fangs. A sudden racket from the north. A tall man appears, he is clothed in a clerical outfit. At his side, sheathed in their scabbards, was a pair of broadswords. A bloody encounter upon the ridge._   
  
At this point, Isabella paused. A gruesome, pained smile crossed her face. She remembered losing the battle against the man, Father Wrexmar. She also recalled swearing revenge against Wrexmar as she laid wounded upon the ground, bound and broken."Ye should have slain me while ye had the chance. Someday, I shall dance upon your grave."_The cleric took the defeated vampire to some church. There were priests and nuns everywhere, and they all crossed themselves and quickly muttered earnest prayers when Wrexmar brought the vampire onto the hallowed grounds._

_  
"So," One priest remarked. "Here be the Heretic."_

_  
"Aye," Wrexmar said gruffly, throwing the bound creature onto the stone floor. "I found this damn hellion outside Leeds. The heathen had slain the Father of the church, along with another."_

_  
A passing nun heard the tale, and her placid features contorted with rage. She pointed an accusing finger at Isabella. "Dust thou art!" she declared. "And unto dust thou shalt return!"_

_  
Isabella's cut lips moved slightly, forming words that were inaudible to those near. Wrexmar picked her up roughly._

_  
"High time..." he murmured. "High time we dealt with this vampire..."_

  
  
Here, Isabella's memories failed her. After that, she only found muddled recollections, and short scenes. A deep, thudding pain also began to assault her temples, which did little to improve her mood.Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return.A sigh escaped from her lips. She straightened and cast a disdainful gaze at the halls. Where to now? The sound of approaching footsteps made Isabella swivel abruptly around. An elderly man was making his way down the way, a small packet of papers in hand. He stopped when he caught sight of Isabella."Ah," he said, a tone of slight surprise marking his voice. "So you've awakened."Isabella shrugged and rubbed at her temple. "Aye. You're...Walter?" Yes, she believed that was his name, someone had called him that earlier.Walter nodded and calmly strode past her. "Walter Dornez, Hellsing family butler.""Butler, eh?" Isabella followed after Walter. "Who is the head of the Hellsing family now?""Sir Integral." Walter answered, and stopped at a pair of doors. He opened them deftly and stepped through. "Integral Wingates Hellsing."The mentioned figure was seated at her desk as Walter and Isabella entered her office. She nodded slightly at their appearance, barely acknowledging their presence. Walter approached her desk and offered her the collection of documents he held."Sir Integra," he said. "The updated reports from the occurrences in Exeter and Canterbury.""Thank you." Integra said, taking the papers from Walter, whom bowed slightly and left the room soon after.Now alone with Integra, Isabella cast a thoughtful gaze at the blond-haired woman before her. The former did the same. The two surveyed each other intently, their gazes piercing into the others. Integra scowled as Isabella's crazed, feral eyes bore into her own. A crazed smirk settled on the vampire's features, and she looked away."Integral Wingates Hellsing." She spoke the name, enunciating each syllable perfectly. "Quite a mouthful."Integra's brow furrowed ever so slightly. She recognized the undisciplined, chaotic nature of this vampire quite clearly, and resolved to remain in control of their meeting. When she spoke, her voice was serious, to the point."Exactly who are you? And why was such an emblem branded on your body?"Isabella's smirk dropped into a calculating frown. "Normally," she replied. "I would refuse to part with the answer. However," Here she pulled down the neckline of her dress slightly, so that the decagram was fully visible an ebony design upon snow-white flesh. "Bound I am to your family, to your blood. Ask of me what ye will, and I will serve.""Isabella, correct?""Aye.""Why, were you imprisoned down in that pit?"Isabella pulled her lips into a devious sneer. "For unspeakable crimes against the Catholic Church, for the murder of numerous priests and nuns, and for defiling the name of his Holiness, the Pope."Integra's eyes narrowed, as though she were trying to decide whether not she spoke the truth or not. "The Vatican captured you?""Their emissaries, specifically.""Why didn't they just slay you and be done with it?"The vampire snorted. "They feared this brand upon my chest. Some believed I couldn't be destroyed, which is far from the truth. Incarceration was the next best choice. And so they bound me, thinking that perhaps a few centuries without blood would kill me."Integra leaned forward in her seat. "Tell me about that tattoo.""T'was placed upon me by one of your family. A symbol of my servitude and allegiance to the Hellsing line.""You allied yourself with my family?"Isabella chuckled. "Hardly. I was captured, examined and experimented upon; they wanted to find out the effects of vampirism upon the human body, as well as other things.""Hence your unstable healing abilities."Isabella pulled at one of the many bandages that adorned her arms. "Indeed. To be honest, I am a failure; I couldn't handle some of the experiments. While in their keep, some days I couldn't be harmed by any weapon, while the rest of the days, I would be bleeding all over the grounds. By and by, I gathered my strength. I managed to escape one day. And only three days later, was captured again, this time, by the Vatican. And here I am before ye today. I am a servant. And a servant I remain until the Hellsing name dies. But tell me, Integral...what am I offered for my servitude? Riches? Nay. Perhaps a sip of the blood I am a servant of..."Their gazes locked again. Integra stiffened with anger at Isabella's implication. She slammed a closed fist upon the desk and stood up abruptly. "How _dare_ you." She said, her tone was laced with cold fury. "You are not the master, I am. You are in no position to command nor request anything of me, understood?"Isabella's pale features broke into a wicked grin in the face of Integra's wrath. She had expected no less from a Hellsing. She bowed slightly."Then I shall serve..." She looked up at Integra with a toothy smirk. "Master."And with that, Isabella left the office, her lithe form passing through a far wall at those it was nothing. Integra picked up a cigar from her desk and lit it. She glared at the wall. How bothersome. Yet another bloodsucking fiend in the house. But then again, it wasn't actually another, considering the Police Girl didn't drink blood. 


	6. Harbinger and Asmodeus

**I do not own Hellsing.**

Also, a couple of definitions :

**1.) Harbinger - har · bin · ger** - _To signal the approach of; presage._

**2.) Asmodeus - As · mo · de · us ****- **_A spirit originally viewed as king of the demons in Jewish demonology and later as a mischievous sprite._

* * *

Isabella raised her weapon and let loose a few rounds at the target, which stood far ahead. She smirked as the bullets tore it apart. A perfect shot. Flawless. Her eyes now took in the darkened landscape that surrounded her. Over the course of two weeks, these grounds had become ever so familiar. It was as though she knew no other home.

Home.

Like the undead had homes. Graves, yes, but homes? She swiveled her head around slightly to gaze for a moment at the towering stone complex that was the Hellsing Institute. _Is this my home now? _She wondered. But the past fourteen days since her arrival had been uneventful, with no real problems from any vampires. The undead were behaving themselves. The calm before the storm; that's what it was. Isabella frowned. Hunting and killing fellow undead seemed strange to her at first, but sometimes, it made sense. Sometimes.

At the sound of footsteps, Isabella cast the gun she had been practicing with to one side.

"Evening, Walter." She called over her shoulder.

"Miss Isabella," Walter approached the vampire, a heavy, sleek black case gripped in each hand. "I completed these just a little while ago."

"Magnificent. Let's see."

Smiling broadly, Isabella watched as Walter set the cases down carefully upon the ground. He then opened one, revealing a large, dark iron-gray pistol. He eased it out of the container and offered it to Isabella.

"The 13mm, anti-midian combat pistol, Harbinger." He said. "Eight round magazine, armor-piercing, with blessed silver tips and customized casings, tempered with holy water."

Isabella took the gun into a gloved hand. She held the Harbinger aloft, marveling silently at its fine balance.

"Well, well," she purred as she turned the pistol over in her hand. "Quite impressive."

Nodding proudly, Walter reached down for the second case. "And here," After a moment, he withdrew another pistol, which was roughly the same size as the Harbinger, although almost pure black in color. "The anti-freak gun, Asmodeus. Forty-two centimeters long. It uses explosive rounds, which consist of blessed silver and mercury. Also polished with holy water. Together, the Asmodeus and Harbinger weigh about thirty-eight kilograms."

Isabella now brandished both guns. "Light as a feather," she remarked. She then allowed a grateful smile to dawn on her face. "They're perfect. Thank you, Walter."

She now looked thoughtful. With inhuman ease, she loaded both weapons and aimed the Harbinger at another target, which stood a few hundred meters away from where she stood. For a long minute, she remained riveted in this position, contemplative. Here, Walter took his leave.

"I must go now. Good night, Miss Isabella."

"Aye, Walter."

As the butler made his way across the dimly lit grounds and towards the mansion, Isabella raised her weapon again. A strange gleam appeared in her eyes. The hard gaze of cold emotionless demeanor she fought to keep slowly faded into quiet sorrow. Her arm trembled slightly, though not from the weight of the Harbinger. Far ahead, the target loomed over its domain of grass and dirt. But in Isabella's mind, the wooden object became a tall male figure. His bloodless lips were pulled into a mocking smile, his watery blue eyes teasing her. This image ignited Isabella's fury. Her eyes grew hard, and a deep, furious growl sounded from the depths of her throat. Her ageless eyes seeing only this man, she pulled the trigger again and again. The target was torn asunder under her assault, along with some of the surrounding terrain. Isabella pulled the trigger once more, only to find her gun empty. She looked over at her left hand, which held the Asmodeus. However, as she lifted the gun, she paused abruptly. Her eyes scanned her surroundings quickly. She sniffed gently at the air, trying to pinpoint the location of the presence she sensed.

"Go away." She called out.

A tall figure, clad in deep crimson clothing, appeared beside her. A wicked grimace was just visible under Alucard's wide-brimmed hat.

"So much anger for a pile of wood." He remarked. "A sad waste of bullets. Or do you see something no one else does? Someone, even?"

Isabella scowled. "He is none of your concern." She turned back to face the targets once again. "Not too long from now, I'll make sure he's nothing more than dust upon a crossroad."

"Oh ho!" Alucard snickered. "Who is this 'he' you speak of?"

The female's glower deepened. "You bloody _ponce_," She spat. "You're enjoying my anger?!"

"Does this 'he' have a name?"

Isabella raised the Asmodeus, and for a moment, was tempted to shoot Alucard, anything for some peace. But a thought occurred to her. No, the first shot from this gun would be saved for him. She shoved her weapons into the folds of her tunic.

"William Montefurt." She stated the name with the utmost vehemence. "Does _that_ answer your question?"

Alucard smirked. "Who is he? A lover?"

Isabella's temper flared at Alucard's question. "No," she said coldly. "My sire."

Such an answer made Alucard's grin become ever the more devious. "Sire? Hah! The _Heretic_ has a lord and master."

"Lord and master no more." Isabella replied curtly through clenched teeth. "His blood tasted like rancid ditchwater."

* * *

The small child trembled terribly as she huddled by her mother. Every so often, small, frightened whimpers would escape from her lips.

"M-mommy," she whispered anxiously.

"Silence, whelp." A harsh voice tore through the darkness of the chamber.

At the sound, the child ducked her head in fear, and her mother tightened her arms around the child protectively. As quietly as she could, the mother tried to soothe her charge, although her voice wavered as she murmured softly to her. The pair, along with seven others, was clustered in the sacristy of the old church. All around them, sacred vessels lay shattered upon the stone floor. Beyond those, the mangled bodies of nine priests formed a semi-circle around the group. Amidst this horror and destruction, a tall female loomed over it all. She chuckled humorously, her eyes taking in the fear of her captives. Her milk-white hands toyed with a pair of long knives, though she was careful not to touch the blades. These she had taken from a young priest whom had attempted to challenge her, armed with them. He now sat hunched over in the far corner of the chamber. On his cheek was a long, deep slash; an injury inflicted by the vampire. With a disgusted look, the undead female, Amelia, threw the priest's knives onto the ground with a loud metallic ring. Rising up from her seat, she strode calmly over to the group of crumpled bodies. With a wicked grin, she dipped her hands into the blood the corpses dripped. The seven humans in the room recoiled at the sight; knowing all too well that they most likely would not survive this ordeal. But what could they do? Any attempts to resist had been brutally put down.

Amelia, with her soaked hands, strode over to one of the walls of the sacristy. After tearing down a tapestry that hung there, she began to write upon the structure with her bloody fingers. Her red eyes gleamed mischievously as she drew a number of runes upon the rough surface, returning to a body now and then to re-dye her hands. And in the center, she smeared a large, bloody circle. Finished with this task, she turned to face her prisoners.

"For the power of my Master," She said cryptically. "And the glory of the Ring. With each of your passings, I step closer to supremacy, whilst you are banished to death."

Her eyes seeming to be made of nothing but hell fire, Amelia approached the remaining seven humans of the church. Her eyes studied each frightened face carefully. Which should she kill first? An aged male priest, one of the few remaining clerics left alive, stood up defiantly as she came nearer. He uttered a prayer in an effort to drive the demon away.

_"Oh, our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom co-"_

Amelia's long fingers enclosed around his neck. "Kingdom come?" She said curtly. "Nay."

There was a sickening crack as Amelia's hold strengthened. A moment later, the man fell to the ground, neck broken.

"M-monster!

Amelia sighed and turned to the speaker. "Monster? _Indeed_."

One by one, the vampire killed another five captives, using their blood to write more atrocities and symbols upon the remaining three walls. They resisted, but their attempts were futile. At last, only one remained. The young priest, a man of about twenty-three, lay on the ground, bleeding from numerous places. Amelia towered over him, watching as he struggled to get to his feet.

"Do you know why I left you for last, human?" Amelia leaned down close to murmur in his ear. "Because you attacked me. You cut my lovely face. For that, I cut yours." She emphasized this by rubbing lovingly at the gash on his cheek, causing him to moan in agony.

"S-scum." The priest said weakly. Although his limbs were afire with pain, he began to fumble desperately in his robes, searching for something. To Amelia, it looked as though he were in his death throes.

"I don't think I shall kill you," Amelia said thoughtfully. "No, perhaps I shall turn you into a ghoul! You'll join my wonderful horde!"

At this, the priest faltered for a moment. The vampire's plan terrified him. He preferred death to becoming a servant to this demon. His cut and bruised hand reached into the pockets of his robes. Where was it? He had another knife somewhere. But just as he found it, he felt himself being lifted bodily upwards by Amelia. Her white fangs gleamed in the moonlight as she faced him.

"A ghoul you shall be!" she said gleefully. "If,that is, unless you're a virgin..."

The priest paled slightly at this. What in God's name was she talking about? Quickly, he took the knife into his right hand.

"I shall be no servant of yours." With a cry, he plunged it into Amelia's stomach. The vampire gasped as she felt the blessed steel penetrate her body. She went rigid, and dropped the man.

The young priest groaned as his body collided with the unyielding floor. Without a moment's delay, he leapt painfully to his feet and fled from the room. His feet pounded the ground like hammers as he ran. From behind him, he could hear the frenzied cries of the vampire Amelia.

"Find him!" her voice was sharp and commanding.

The injured cleric hurried down a set of stairs and across a darkened hall. Who was she talking to? His answer, however, was quick in coming. As he rounded a corner, the priest nearly stumbled into a troop of _things_. He fell back, stifling a cry of terror. They had once been human, most still wore the weathered remains of clothing. But their flesh, once smooth, was now blackened with decay, and crusted with blood and filth. The mottled throats issued forth drawling moans as they ambled towards him. The young man reeled back and began to flee in the opposite direction. However, his strength was beginning to fail him. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps. His limbs were practically screaming for rest. But rest was far from what he could do at this point. Half-conciously, he wished for his knives. But the demon had taken them. Finally, his energy gave out all together. Worn out from the entire affair, his legs buckled under him. The priest gasped as he thudded against the ground. He glanced back down the hall. They were closing in.

BANG.

There was a thunderous boom, and the priest heard something fall upon the ground beside him. He turned his head. It was one of his pursuers. It's rotted form lay dead still. A huge, gaping hole in its skull stared back at him. What happened?

"Get up, priest, or do you want those ghouls to take you?"

The young man lifted his head up at the new voice. At the far end of the hall, a raven-haired woman, armed with enormous pistols, stood watching his dilemma.

"Get up." She repeated, and shot down another ghoul.

"I...can't..." The man gasped. "My legs..."

"Hells." The woman turned to her side and called down the adjoining corridor. "Police Girl."

As the woman struck down three ghouls, another woman joined her. She was clothed in a manner similar to that of one who served in the military. At her side, carried with startling ease, was a behemoth of a gun. A cannon, more appropriately.

"Isabella?"

With a nod, Isabella pocketed her two guns and darted towards the fallen priest, while Seras raised her Harkonnen. Deafening explosions sounded as Seras fired at the cluster of ghouls. The priest started as Isabella grabbed him by the arms.

"Ah..."

"Get up." Isabella grunted and borne him up high. She then proceded to drag him down the length of the hall, while Seras advanced and continued her assault on the line of ghouls. Once he was taken back a safe distance, Isabella deposited him by a wall, and drew out her Harbinger.

"Stay out of the way." she said flatly.

By now, the detachment of undead had been demolished. Seras and Isabella made their way through to the sacristy. Upon entering, they found that Alucard had already gotten to the vampire, whom lay bleeding profusely at his feet. Isabella smirked thinly as she watched Amela squirm helplessly, her legs heavily damaged by Alucard's guns.

"Damn...you." Amelia managed, her voice wavering from her pain.

Seras and Isabella now took in the walls which Amelia had scrawled upon, along with the numerous corpses.

"What is all this?" Isabella demanded as she strode about the dank room.

Though wounded in countless places, Amelia threw back her head defiantly. "For the glory of the Ring." she cackled. "The winds are ours, this plain shall soon follow."

A shot rang out as Amelia suddenly lurched forward. Alucard grimaced.

"You're no more than a worthless servant carrying out another's whim. A fool with no power."

Amelia licked her cut lips. "You know _nothing_ of power. " she muttered darkly.

"_Enough_," Alucard pointed the Casull at Amelia's skull. "Go to where all cowards like you go."

As Alucard pulled the trigger, Isabella smirked and left the sacristy. Now that the head vampire had been eliminated, the ghouls she had created would soon follow. The mission was complete. However, as she made her way out of the building, she stumbled upon the priest she had rescued earlier. He lay quite still. Isabella prodded his side with a booted foot, and he stirred, moaning deeply. His eyes widened when he saw Isabella standing over him.

"Please...no more of this...just slay me and be done with it..."

Rolling her eyes slightly, Isabella helped him up. "I have no intention of killing you, priest."

"My name...Zane." he said weakly as Isabella took him out into the night air.

But she didn't seem to have heard him. "That vampire in there, she's dead." she said simply. "What can you tell me about what happened here, Priest?"

Zane made as if to protest being dubbed simply "Priest", but then decided against it. He looked towards the still church as he spoke. "She appeared out of nowhere near the end of the service. She and that band of _things_."

"Ghouls."

"Yes, I suppose. S-She killed the Father and almost all the others at once. She then forced the remaining seven of us into the sacristy. I...I tried to stop her, but..."

Isabella's eyes settled on his many wounds, particularly on the one upon his cheek. She nodded at it. "I see. That little thing is going to leave a mark."

"She..." Tears began to appear as Zane continued. " She killed my family. My parents...my sister.."

Despite his tragic plight, Isabella's face remained stoic and devoid of emotion. Zane's shoulders shook as he cried, as though the true meaning of his family's death was just beginning to settle in. Between his sobs, Isabella threw in a few more questions.

"What was she doing? Why did she write all those symbols upon the walls?"

"I'm...not sure. She murmured incomprehensible things as she wrote though."

"Did she say anything else?"

"Something...about a Master...and a Ring."

"Anything besides that?"

"I don't think so..."

Isabella turned away from Zane as Alucard and Seras exited the church. "Find anything?"

"No."

Seras peered curously over Isabella's shoulder, at Zane. "He the only survivor?"

Isabella put away her guns. "Aye. I would like so see Sir Hellsing's expression when we report."


	7. Dealing with Monsters

**Once again, I do not own Hellsing.**

**For more information about some of the mythological referances made in this chapter, you can read The Secret Arts.**

* * *

"I send them to eliminate the undead occurrence outside Rochester, and they return with a priest."

"Well, milady, apparently, he is the only survivor."

Integra held a cigar in her right hand. She tapped it thoughtfully against the desk. The team she'd sent on their latest mission had just returned. With an extra person. She frowned and glanced momentarily at Zane, who stood uneasily to Walter's left. Alucard could be found by the far wall. Seras and Isabella were nowhere in sight. Integra now turned her attention to Alucard, whom smiled wickedly as her eyes met his.

"You seem displeased, Integra," he said. "Is there something wrong, my Master?"

"Don't start." She said curtly.

"What am I starting, Master?"

Integra's grip on the cigar tightened ever so slightly. She took a small breath. "What did you learn from that vampire in Rochester?"

An evil sneer played on Alucard's lips. He was silent, but then began to speak dutifully.

"She was like the first one in Exeter. They both seemed to have sworn allegiance to some 'master.' Again, there were references to some 'ring.' There was little else to find."

Integra pondered over this before nodding at her other servant. "Walter?"

The manservant held up several documents. "I ran a search, Milady, with the term 'ring' as a focal point. After disregarding the standard finds of jewelry and antiques, we were able to come up with about three references to a 'ring and master.' Four, if you count Tolkien."

"Who?"

"Tolkien, an author. There are many fans of his Lord of the Rings books here in England." Walter said lightly.

Integra scoffed. "Aside from _that_, what have you found?"

"There are three sects here in Europe devoted to worshipping pagan and archaic runes." Walter replied. "However, our sources indicate that these groups are peaceable, and often seclude themselves from the public."

At this, Integra leaned back in her chair. "Then we have nothing." She said plainly.

Walter nodded apologetically. "Yes. However, I shall investigate again, Milady. Perhaps we shall find more, things we may have overlooked the first time around."

With a bow, Walter swept out of the room, leaving Integra with Alucard and the new arrival. Zane squirmed uncomfortable when Alucard turned in his direction. The powerful vampire frightened him terribly, as did Integra.

"What of the Priest?" Alucard asked, his eyes hidden beneath thick glasses.

Integra looked over at the young cleric. "What in God's name made you bring him here?" she asked Alucard.

Alucard chuckled lightly. "It was a whim of Isabella's, Integra, not mine." He said.

Integra snorted in slight disgust. "Don't tell me she wishes to turn him. This house has no need for _another _undead."

Alucard's grin grew. "A vampire priest! Wonderful."

Zane's eyes grew wide in terror at this turn in conversation. He hoped earnestly that the two were merely jesting. "Y-You don't truly mean that, d-do you?" he asked meekly.

The two looked to the speaker. Integra clasped her hands underneath her chin and frowned. "No," she said seriously. "I do not."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"That is the question." Integra said thoughtfully.

"I..." Zane looked down at his feet. "I can't return to Rochester. There's nothing left for me there." His voice trembled. "I've lost everything...please don't make go back there..."

The silence that followed this statement was shattered by a dry, sarcastic voice.

"Oh stop, you're going to make me cry."

Zane looked up abruptly, just in time to see Isabella glide in through the pair of heavy doors. Her pale arms were crossed over her chest, and she seemed annoyed.

"I didn't save you from those ghouls so you could sit around and extol your woes." She said coldly. "I gave you a chance for vengeance. Had I known you'd be crying and moaning instead, I would have left you to Amelia and her servants."

Zane's mouth opened in protest, but closed a moment afterwards, he was at a loss for words. He cringed as Isabella regarded him balefully.

"Look at me, Priest." Her voice was hard. "Stop whining. Get up and strike back at which destroyed your life. Dance upon their graves when all has been said and done."

"No..." Zane sighed in resignation. "Such a thing...where is the sense? 'An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.' Vengeance is inhumane. I'm sorry. But," he forced himself to look straight at Isabella. "If this is what you rescued me for, then you probably wasted your time. I cannot return one wrong with another. Where's the humanity in such a thing?"

Though her temper flared, Isabella remained calm. In one swift, fluid movement, she pushed Zane roughly into a wall. She moved her face so that it was barely inches from his. Her mouth opened wide to reveal milk-white fangs. Her breath smelled thickly of blood.

"You're not dealing with people, Priest." She spat harshly. "We're monsters. They're monsters. Humanity is beyond us. It is an idea that the weak cling to. I'm sure Amelia didn't sing of humanity as she ripped the life from those you loved."

Zane trembled as Isabella bared her fangs at him. His gaze shook, fighting desperately to meet the vampire's crazed eyes. With one rough movement, Isabella shoved him away from her. Her face was contorted with fury and disgust.

"Do not forget that." She said over her shoulder as she left the room.

As the female disappeared from the room, Integra stole a glance over her shoulder at Alucard. Beneath the wide-brimmed hat and thick glasses, he looked amused by the events. Zane, on the other hand, was quite shaken. His shoulders drooped, eyes pointed at the ground. Integra sighed.

"You will stay here at Hellsing." She said. "There is little sense in sending you to Rochester. Captain Bernadette will see to it that you receive weapons training."

Zane looked up. "W-weapons training?" he stuttered. "You mean firearms? But I..."

Integra raised a quizzical eyebrow at his response. "Is there a problem?"

A chuckle from Alucard's direction made Integra turn to her left. The crimson-decked vampire reached into his voluminous coat. After a moment, he withdrew a pair of long, thin knives, their blades stained with dried blood. Alucard threw the two weapons deftly at Integra's desk, where they landed with a dull metal thud.

"I found these after I killed the vampire in Rochester." He said with a slight tone of amusement. "They've been blessed. Perhaps the Priest prefers these trinkets over guns."

Zane moved slightly at the sight of his weapons. His eyes gazed at them in wonder, as though he hadn't expected to see them again. Integra noted this reaction and shrugged.

"To each his own. Walter will show you to your quarters. Bernadette will come and fetch you later for training." Leaning forward, Integra picked up the knives and tossed them at Zane. "You're dismissed."

Zane bent over quickly to retrieve them. "T-thank you...milady." He said, and quietly made his way out of the room.

Integra watched the doors close behind the cleric. Settling back in her chair, she reached for her cigar. As she lit the cancer stick, Alucard laughed.

"Magnificent." He remarked. "Simply magnificent."

"What is?"

Alucard smirked and looked out a nearby window. "That vampire in Rochester, she was nothing more than a servant. Worthless, really. Perhaps we shall see if her master is any different."

Integra gripped the cigar stiffly between her lips. She peered inquisitively at Alucard. "And do you have an idea of what is entire debacle is about?"

Alucard shrugged, chuckling quietly to himself. He approached Integra's desk, placing his hands upon the polished wood. His glasses gleamed as he faced his master, swirls of smoke from Integra's cigar weaving around his pale features.

"Doesn't it excite you, Master?"

Integra's lips pulled down into a frown, and she took the cigar out of her mouth. "What are you talking about?"

"It's simply devastating, this anticipation." Alucard's lips pulled up grotesquely. "The calm before the storm, the deep breath before the plunge...the silence which preludes chaos."

Integra had the grace to roll her eyes. "What in God's name are you babbling on about now?"

Alucard leaned a bit closer, his voice a dead whisper. "We're not looking for some master or lord, Sir Hellsing." He said cryptically. "The 'Ring' is the key."

"Go on."

"It is so obvious, the answer has been dancing in front of us for so long, we just simply refuse to read it."

Integra placed her cigar upon the desk calmly before speaking. "Actually, a certain servant of mine is dancing in front of me with the answer," she smiled thinly. "He just simply refuses to reveal it without playing his games. Like a child who has solved a riddle, but wishes to bask in his glory before telling all."

"Hahaha." Alucard reached up and gently took off his glasses. "Do you really want the solution, Master?" he asked mischievously. "Or would you rather combat with the unknown?"

"Enough." Integra pushed him away. "Tell me what you've discovered, or hold your undead tongue."

Alucard grinned and replaced his glasses. "The vampires in Exeter and Rochester all seem to serve some 'master'. However, we should be searching for the ring they worship so much. Find the 'ring', and we find the master."

"Yes, yes," Integra said impatiently. "You've already said this..."

"It was something the latest vampire said which made me come to this conclusion; "The winds are ours, this plain will soon follow." The winds."

"Go on."

"It was like fitting pieces of a puzzle together. Perhaps Amelia meant this literally. A ring that could control the winds? Who knows? Do you?"

Integra furrowed her brow. "There's no such thing, Alucard. That is shear..." she paused as a thought dawned upon her. "Oh."

Alucard nodded with satisfaction. "Exactly, Master." He said. "We're dealing with far more than undead. We're dealing with something almost as old and arcane."

"The ring of power itself." Integra said, eyes riveted on Alucard. "Solomon's Ring."

"Indeed." Alucard said. "And that, my dear Master, is the solution to this expansive puzzle."


End file.
